|Jan/Feb 2006 Poetry|
A Business Trip
The poultry farmer's wife, who by mistake
has disappeared in the city, is engaged
in boiling rhubarb compote.
She smiles at a wooden spoon,
and looks happily at a wall-clock.
(Meanwhile her man coincidentally meets
a girl from Odense and promises her
his hard-earned chickens!)
In the fireplace the first, confused
insects have begun to roast.
The wife has no inkling as yet.
(Translated from the Polish by the author and Malcolm Sinclair)